Last week, Clint Malarchuk shot himself in the chin with a .22-caliber rifle. The incident occurred at Malarchuk's ranch in Gardnerville, Nev. The Douglas County sheriff investigated and concluded the shooting was "accidental under suspicious circumstances."

Last week, Clint Malarchuk shot himself in the chin with a .22-caliber rifle. The incident occurred at Malarchuk's ranch in Gardnerville, Nev. The Douglas County sheriff investigated and concluded the shooting was "accidental under suspicious circumstances."

Which is to say this looked exactly like a suicide attempt, but there is no way to prove it.

Malarchuk, after resisting, ultimately accepted treatment and was hospitalized. He has since been discharged. His coaching career is in jeopardy and he has put the Jackets in an awful position. This gunshot will reverberate for days, months, years.

I should say, off the top, that Malarchuk is one of the most compelling and likable human beings I've met. He will open himself up to the point of utter vulnerability. He will do anything for his friends. He is a true cowboy, a Western throwback, a rare brand of man. There isn't a phony fiber in his being.

Malarchuk is also tortured, almost beyond comprehension. He was violently abused by his father. He was hospitalized because of anxiety attacks when he was 12. He has suffered from a debilitating case of obsessive-compulsive disorder. He has been gripped with severe bouts of depression.

Malarchuk's infamous injury -- he nearly died on March 22, 1989, while tending goal for the Buffalo Sabres, when an upturned skate slashed open his jugular vein -- at first gave him nightmares, and later unleashed some of the demons of his youth.

Malarchuk sat down for an interview last spring, before the 19th anniversary of his gruesome injury. He was, as usual, bluntly honest. At one point, his wife, Joanie, turned to him and said, "You've got all of these stuffed-up emotions, and they're coming up now."

Whether it's a question of adjusting medication, or the terrible deja vu of Richard Zednik's neck injury last season, or some combination of awful memories old and new, it appears that Malarchuk has gotten stuck in a cycle of self-destruction. About a year ago, he was arrested on suspicion of disorderly conduct at a sports bar in Douglas County. Last season, he was involved in a bar fight in Nashville. Last week, he shot himself by accident, under suspicious circumstances.

The Blue Jackets are left in a terrible position. After seven seasons of futility, they think they have a team that can get to the playoffs and Malarchuk is of great importance to this quest. Can they count on him?

The Jackets have a young, franchise goaltender in Pascal Leclaire, who has but one full season under his belt, and another prime prospect in Steve Mason, who is on the farm in Syracuse. Malarchuk has deep personal and professional relationships with these young men who fill the team's most vital position. Indeed, Malarchuk is so good at forging relationships with his charges there will be consequences if he cannot, for personal or legal reasons, resume his post.

The team's managers and coaches care deeply about Malarchuk. They need him.

But the unforgiving nature of their business may force them to seek an alternative. It would be a step back for the Jackets. What would it do to Malarchuk?

I love the guy. Since news came of the shooting incident, I have thought the worst, that this was another in an escalating series of desperate acts, that the next bottom he hits will be the last. I hope I am wrong.

I once told Malarchuk that one of my daughters adores horses. He instantly made a standing offer to host her at his Nevada farm, so that she could ride to her heart's content. Like everything about Malarchuk, the offer was wholly sincere, and I've always wanted to take him up on it. He is the kind of man you'd trust with your own daughter. And she'd be a better person for knowing him.

I hope Malarchuk gets whatever help he needs to wrestle whatever it is he's wrestling. He has more friends than he knows. His has a wife. He has children.

Get well, Clint, and get back.

Michael Arace is a sports reporter for The Dispatch.

marace@dispatch.com

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